


You and I (Will Be Young Forever)

by ChibiRHM



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-12
Updated: 2012-09-12
Packaged: 2017-11-14 02:00:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/510121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibiRHM/pseuds/ChibiRHM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It isn’t until Taylor’s first seasons starts winding down that Taylor starts wondering if maybe Ebs is more than just his best friend. Because he’s had a lot of friends before, even a few best friends, and he’s never <i>liked</i> them as much as he likes Jordan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You and I (Will Be Young Forever)

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this around when I was 75% done with Hanging with the Unloved Kids. I was really, really tired of dealing with Sidney Crosby and his complicated neuroses and angst, and I just felt like I needed some uncomplicated douchebags in love as, like, a palate cleanser. Enter Taylor Hall and Jordan Eberle, the most uncomplicated douchebags to ever love each other douchily.
> 
> This fic wound up in my pile of three or four Hockey WIPs and possibly would have languished there forever had mockturtletale not reminded me it was there by giving me a lot of drive-by Oilers feels this weekend. She's a terrible person and I hope she suffers appropriately, by which I mean I hope there's a video of Ryan Nugent-Hopkins working out while at that summit in Vail, and I hope she _watches the entire thing._
> 
> Hugs and kisses go out to my intrepid betas Sharksdontsleep and Staraflur, esquires. You ladies are winners.

Sometimes Taylor gets this feeling when he meets someone that they’re going to be important. He doesn’t know if he’s, like, psychic, but he just has this sense if he should stick around someone or not.

He gets hit by that feeling really hard when he first meets Jordan Eberle, even though he’s only ten. He just sees this gap-toothed kid and it’s like something’s crawling and tingling along his skin saying _pay attention, this is important_. Ebs sort of slips in and out of his consciousness for the next eight years, this tiny, scrappy guy who Taylor watches every time they run into each other. A guy that little shouldn’t be so great, but he is, and that makes Taylor sit up and notice.

He doesn’t tell anyone that he’s hoping to be drafted by Edmonton, because he’s not supposed to care, but he is. Boston seems like a really nice city and a really great team, and he’d be happy to play there. But he doesn’t know anyone in Boston, and it’s far away, and between that and getting to play in _Canada_ with _Jordan Eberle_ , like, how is that even a question.

He calls Ebs when he’s drafted to Edmonton, ducking out of the party he’s at with the other draftees. “So we should live together,” he says as a greeting because whatever, Jordan has caller ID and is totally watching the draft, he’ll know who it is.

“Fuckin’ right, we should,” Ebs agrees, and that’s all it takes, it’s like they’re best friends before they even move in. Taylor’s excited, because this is his dream right here, playing in the NHL. And he’s playing with Ebs, so it’s going to be great. He can feel it.

\- - -

Taylor’s rookie year is - okay, it’s amazing, but it’s also crazy and stressful as hell. It’s like if he ventures outside of his tiny hockey bubble, the world has gone into fast forward while he was plodding along at the same speed. Normally, he’d just keep his head down and focus on hockey, but there’s one thing the outside world has that the hockey world doesn’t: girls. Girls that all of a sudden are actually willing to sleep with him. And, well, he’s eighteen, okay. Just because he plays hockey doesn’t mean his dick is dead.

It’s not that he doesn’t try to date girls and do right by them first, because he does. His mom had been crazy pissed when she heard he’d been badmouthing Kyle’s girl for taking him away from sacred bro time. She’d sat him down and given him a scary lecture on responsibility and treating women right and how gentlemanly conduct wasn’t optional just because he was all rich and famous. And then that lecture lead into some other lecture about not making her a grandmother any time soon and ended in her buying him an economy-sized box of condoms. It was the worst half-hour of Taylor’s life. If he gets to avoid ever having to repeat that experience by dating girls a bit before he hooks up with them, he’ll do it. Besides, Taylor totally loses his virginity and then some, his dating methods are at least kind of working.

The girls never last longer than a month, which he feels kind of shitty about. It’s not like he thinks these girls are disposable, or he doesn’t _like_ them, because he does. It’s just that once they have sex a few times, it’s hard to make himself that interested. He’s exhausted from playing hockey, the only thing he’s interested in is crashing on the couch with Ebs and watching whatever’s on TV or napping until he dies. He has zero energy left to care about feelings. Plus, he feels weird saying it, but sex is sort of a let-down. Not that it’s not amazing, because it is, but at the end of the day, he’d rather just jack off on his own. He doesn’t have to worry about if his hand’s enjoying it or if his hand is judging how long he’s lasting or if he passes out after, and he doesn’t have to worry that his hand’s going to post on some message board about how Taylor Hall is a shitty lay. His hand just gives him nice, uncomplicated orgasms.(And his hand helps him play hockey, which no girl’s ever done.)

He doesn’t know how to explain this to anyone. He’s pretty sure if he even thinks something like that near his mom, she’ll be ball-withering levels of disappointed in him. He brings it up to his dad after the third (and final) attempt at having a girlfriend, and his dad just says something vague about knowing a girl’s the right girl because he’ll have time for her and stuff becomes more fun and less tiring, which is confusing. Taylor’s pretty sure that even Kate Upton can’t fuck with the space-time continuum, and if he’s supposed to wait for a girl who _can_ , he’s probably going to die alone.

Taylor would probably feel really shitty and start googling if re-becoming a virgin was a myth or not, but it’s pretty clear Ebs had gone through the same thing and had come to the same conclusion. And Jordan was really great with girls, really nice and considerate and always remembering their birthdays and favorite flowers or whatever. If Taylor was a girl, he’d date Jordan. And if a stand-up, hard-working guy like Jordan had decided girls were too much effort, Taylor didn’t feel like such a dick for deciding the same thing.

“It’s like, I _could_ go out with Gags,” Ebs explains over fish tacos, “but then am I looking to pick up or not? I mean, I know I should want to, but it’s so much effort. And hangovers suck so hard, man, it’s just not worth it. I’d rather hang out with you and just call it a night.”

“I know, right?” Taylor says. “Like, I don’t even care how lame it makes me. So sue me, I like a good night’s sleep.”

“Sleep is the best,” Ebs groans. “Sleep is like, better than sex.”

Taylor considers this very seriously. “Maybe, like, as good as sex,” he decides finally. “It depends. Like, what kind of sex are we comparing this to, on a scale from one to a threesome with Kate Upton and Sloane from _Entourage_?”

Ebs hums thoughtfully around a mouthful before going, “It’s lesbian porn, dude. It’s like, yeah, that threesome _sounds_ super awesome, but imagine you’re the only dick in there, that’s a lot of pressure, you know? Sleep is like girl on girl porn, it shouldn’t be as good as the real thing, except it totally is.”

“That’s, like, the smartest thing I’ve ever heard.” Taylor says. “Since when are you smart?”

“Fuck you, I’m always smart,” Ebs says, but he’s smiling too hard to actually be offended, so Taylor just punches his shoulder and decides he’s lucky that he has someone around who gets him the way Jordan does.

\- - -

It isn’t until Taylor’s first seasons starts winding down that Taylor starts wondering if maybe Ebs is more than just his best friend. Because he’s had a lot of friends before, even a few best friends, and he’s never _liked_ them as much as he likes Jordan. He’s never wanted to hang out with them more than he’s wanted to hang out with anyone else, including girls who might sleep with him. He’s never napped with them or really enjoyed touching them and wanted to do it all the time. He’s never spent all day, every day with them and then still felt like it wasn’t enough time. And he’s certainly never thought they were attractive. Like, he can kind of tell if a guy’s pretty, but that’s only if he looks like a girl.

He really likes looking at Jordan, though, and Jordan doesn’t look like a girl at all. It’s not like Jordan’s the only thing that makes him happy. He likes hockey, and naps, and video games, and watching TV, and golf, but he also likes doing those things more when Jordan is around. Jordan makes him happy in a different way, a way that makes him notice how great it is when Jordan smiles or how pretty his eyes are or how amazing he looks shirtless. Which is all pretty gay, but not nearly as gay as how he’s started wondering what it would be like to kiss Jordan. He’s pretty sure it would be awesome. He also jerks off sometimes thinking about it. So, you know, that’s more than just a little gay.

The thing about Jordan is it’s really hard to tell the difference between when he’s into someone and when he’s being his normal amount of nice. Is he holding the car door open and insisting on paying for dinner because he’s Ebs and that’s what he does, or because they’re on a date? Does Jordan sit with him on long plane rides playing hangman and that game where you try to make the most boxes because he likes Taylor, or because he’s bored too? Does he smile at Taylor more or sweeter than he smiles at anyone else? And when he does these things, is it because Taylor’s his best friend, or something else? Taylor thinks about it all summer while he mopes around the house missing Jordan and texting him constantly, but he doesn’t get any closer to figuring it out.

Taylor still hasn’t figured it out by time his second season is about to start. He’s back in Edmonton, sacked out on the couch with Jordan after a brutal day of training camp. Taylor wakes up to find he fell asleep on Jordan, which isn’t that weird. They’ll usually have a beer and watch some dumb TV together before heading to bed for real, and between the alcohol and the long day, it’s really a toss-up as to who falls asleep first and winds up slumped over who. Jordan maneuvered them so they’re lying down along the couch instead of hunched over awkwardly in a way that would inevitably lead to back cramps and crankiness, which was nice of him.

What’s not normal is instead of Jordan waking up first, Taylor does. Taylor’s usually a pretty deep sleeper and Jordan stirs at any little fucking thing, but he must have run himself hard at practice, because he’s down for the count. Jordan’s chest is gently rising and falling underneath his ear, heartbeat a steady thu-thump, thu-thump, thu-thump, breath whistling in and out of his nose. It’s weird to look up at Jordan, but it doesn’t feel wrong-weird, it’s just another thing in the long list of things that Taylor’s discovering he likes doing with Jordan. He’s pretty sure that’s an infinite list, actually. But right now number one on the list is that Taylor would really, really like to kiss him.

Jordan shifts and grunts like he knows Taylor’s thinking about him, eyes fluttering open and Jesus, his eyelashes are so long. It’s such a gay thing to notice. Taylor doesn’t care.

“You have pretty eyes,” he says, because it’s true. And then, “I really want to kiss you.”

Jordan blinks at him a few times and rubs one eye with the heel of his palm. “What, really?”

“Like, a lot,” Taylor nods. Jordan stares at him for a few more moments before he laughs, bright and loud, and it makes Taylor’s heart speed up with a stutter.

“Cool,” Jordan says, and then he’s reaching up for the back of Taylor’s neck and pulling him down. And, like, Taylor doesn’t really remember what kissing other people was like enough to compare it to how Jordan kisses. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t gotten honest-to-God butterflies from kissing someone before, but there’s something weird and fluttery going on in the pit of his stomach and he feels all light-headed and fuzzy. _Holy shit,_ Taylor thinks, sneaking his hands under the collar of Jordan’s t-shirt and feeling his shoulder muscles press hot into his palm, and then _Jordan, Jordan, holy shit._

“So, uh,” Taylor says when they pull away for air. “I, um. This means you like me, right?”

Jordan cracks up again like Taylor just said something hilarious. “You’re okay,” he shrugs, and then starts cackling again when Taylor punches him.

“You’re such a _douche_.”

“And you’re a dumbass,” Jordan says. “Of course I like you. You’re my best friend.”

“Not everyone makes out with their best friends,” Taylor points out.

“Well, you’re my best friend, and I want to make out with you,” Jordan says, like that settles that. “Do you want to keep talking about stupid shit, or can I kiss you again?”

“Whatever,” Taylor shrugs, trying to play it cool, but Jordan just rolls his eyes before tugging Taylor down to make out with him some more, so whatever. He gets what Taylor was trying to say.

\- - -

It takes a few weeks for them to have sex, which Taylor supposes could charitably be attributed to them trying to be responsible and start the season right, or some desire to take his time and date Jordan first, but mostly it’s just because he doesn’t know if Jordan _wants_ to have sex with him. Maybe Ebs just really likes kissing people. He’s really good at it, and Taylor knows from his own personal experience that just because a dude pops a boner doesn’t mean he wants to have sex, it just means he’s a dude. And Taylor, like, respects Jordan and his boundaries. If all he gets to do is make out with Jordan, he’ll make out with him as much as he can reasonably get away with. But then one night they’re making out on Taylor’s bed, and Jordan puts his hand over Taylor’s dick and says, “Can I?”

“What?” Taylor asks, because Jordan’s _hand_ is _touching his dick_ , and that’s really distracting even when it’s through two layers of cloth, and then he catches up with the program. “Yes, yes, Jesus, yes.”

They both scrabble clumsily to get their clothes off, elbows and knees knocking, and then Jordan’s got no clothes left and he’s _naked_ and gorgeous and Taylor can’t stop staring at Jordan staring at him. He’s been naked in front of Jordan before in the locker room, and he’s had sex with other people in various states of undress, but this feels like the most naked he’s ever been in front of anyone.

“ _Shit,_ Hallsy,” Jordan breathes out, crawling over on his hands and knees to where Taylor’s laying down nervously. “You’re so pretty.”

“I think I’m offended,” Taylor says, and Jordan’s face softens into a wide grin.

“No you’re not.”

“No I’m not,” he agrees. Jordan can call him whatever he wants, especially when he’s naked. “Jesus, c’mere, Ebby.”

That’s all the invitation Jordan needs to drape himself half over Taylor and kisses him, and even just pressing their bare chests together makes Taylor moan a little into Jordan’s mouth. He’d sort of formed a game plan when he was getting undressed about how he was going to be super cool, how he was going to grab Jordan and go to town on him. But now that Jordan is kissing him all slow and sloppy the way Taylor likes, he can’t really remember why he thought his plan was a good one. He can’t really think at all, actually. It’s entirely possible he’s going to come just from Jordan kissing him and the way Jordan’s back feels under the palms of Taylor’s hands, and that’s super-embarrassing. Taylor manages to think through the fireworks show that’s going off in his brain that if he comes and doesn’t get to touch Jordan’s ass, he’s going to be disappointed, because he’s spent a lot of hours unsubtly watching Jordan bend over to pick things up. Jordan inhales sharply when he grabs for his ass, climbing on top of Taylor completely to give him better access, and holy shit, that’s Jordan’s hard dick against his. That’s Jordan’s hand reaching between them and stroking their dicks together.

“Jesus fucking fuck, Ebby,” he pants into Jordan’s neck. “Jesus, you have to - I’m gonna -”

“Fuck,” Jordan swears, shuddering against him, and Jesus, he’s _coming_. “Fuck, _Taylor_ -” and that’s when Taylor comes too, so hard he can’t breathe. He’s gonna blame Jordan calling him by his first name in that wrecked voice. Jordan never calls him by his first name unless it’s, like, for press or whatever. Taylor’s probably going to have to ban Ebs from ever calling him by his first name in front of other people, because it made him come so hard and fast that he’d be embarrassed if Jordan hadn’t come first, and because popping boners on camera is generally frowned upon.

“Fuck,” Jordan says. He sounds as wrecked as Taylor feels. “Fuck.”

“I was gonna blow you,” Taylor says, still kind of dazed.

“Oh my god, don’t say that,” Jordan moans. “Do you have any idea how much I’ve jerked off thinking about your mouth?”

“I could go again,” Taylor says, wiggling a little to test it. He’s a little sensitive but, yeah, give him a few minutes and he’s definitely good to go.

“Awesome,” Jordan says in this vague, hazy sort of voice, and then he’s kissing Taylor some more and Taylor sort of forgets about everything that isn’t Jordan’s tongue in his mouth or Jordan’s hips rolling and hitching against his. He means to blow Jordan, he does, but then he keeps realizing inconvenient shit, like that Jordan is on top of him, or that if Taylor wanted to blow Jordan they’d have to stop kissing, or he’d at least have to let go of Jordan’s ass.

“‘M gonna blow you,” he keeps mumbling into Jordan’s mouth. “I am. I’m gonna.”

“Yeah,” Jordan keeps saying. “Yeah, yeah, do it.”

“‘M gonna,” Taylor promises, only then they go back to kissing and he forgets again. It isn’t until they’ve been kissing for so long his jaw is beginning to ache and he and Jordan are rutting against each other and five seconds away from coming again that he remembers his promise. “Jord- _Ebby_ ,” he groans, “Jordan, I was gonna - I didn’t - I didn’t blow you -“

“Next time,” Jordan says. “Next time, oh god, don’t stop.” And that’s how Taylor comes the second time, thrusting into Jordan’s stomach and muffling his noises in Jordan’s sweaty shoulder, Jordan jerks against him a few more times, eyes squeezed shut tight and barely breathing before he comes too and collapses next to Taylor in an exhausted heap.

Jordan’s hair is matted to his head in sweaty curls, and Taylor lazily runs his hands through it a few times until Jordan has stopped shaking. “So,” he says. “On a scale from one to a threesome with Kate Upton and Sloane from _Entourage_...”

Jordan turns his face just enough to crack one eye open and glare at Taylor balefully. “Really, jackass?” Taylor just shrugs. “Fine,” Jordan sighs, nuzzling back into the sheets next to Taylor’s shoulder. “Beats a threesome.”

“But is it better than girl-on-girl porn?” he asks, and Jordan laughs.

“Dude, nothing beats girl-on-girl,” he says. Taylor should probably be offended, but honestly, he’s mostly glad that some things remain sacred. He’d be kind of worried if they didn’t.

\- - -

It’s early November and Taylor’s kicking serious ass at Tiger Woods PGA Tour when Ebs flops down next to him on the couch and says “Hey, wanna come home with me for Christmas?”

Taylor pauses the game. “For real?” He asks. He doesn’t usually mind being an only child, except on Christmas morning, when it sort of sucks. He has all these cool new toys and no one to play with, and no one wants to hang out, either. Plus, Ebs’ brother and sisters are cool, even if his sisters are sometimes really loud and giggly. “Yeah, sure. I mean, of course.”

“Awesome,” says Ebs. “I’ll tell my mom.” And Taylor thinks, _oh, right, Mom_. He should probably let his own know where he’s going to be on Christmas. It turns out she’s kind of upset when he calls to check if it’s okay. Not, like, mad, but a little disappointed.

“We haven’t seen you since last summer,” she says, which isn’t actually an answer of if he can go or not.

“C’mon, Mom,” he whines. “You know how boring Christmas is at home.”

“You’re with Jordan all the time,” his mom points out. “It’s only a few days. Don’t you want to see your other friends?”

Taylor glares at the ceiling and weighs his options very carefully. He doesn’t really want to tell his mom about his sex life, but on the other hand, his mom doesn’t understand that Ebs is _Ebs_ , which makes him better than all his friends even without factoring in the hooking up they’ve been doing. “Jordan’s special,” he says finally. “He’s, I mean, uh. We’re kind of... dating?” He guesses that’s what he’d call it. Jordan hasn’t asked if Taylor wants to be his boyfriend, but Taylor hasn’t asked either. It seems stupid, anyway, they’d both know if the other hooked up with anyone else, neither of them want to, and that’s all the definition they need, right? But he’s not going to call anyone his fuckbuddy to his mom’s face, and he doesn’t really have a good word for “my best friend who I also really enjoy having sex with.” Only now he’s wondering if maybe this is one of those things he’s just supposed to know, and is Ebs going to be mad that Taylor’s facebook still says he’s single?

“ _Oh_ ,” his mom says, like suddenly everything makes sense. “Oh sweetie, why didn’t you just tell me that sooner?”

“It’s complicated?” Now he feels shitty for kind of lying to her. “We’re not labeling stuff or anything, you know? I just, I dunno. Maybe it’s dumb.”

“Well,” his mom says briskly. “Do you like him? As more than just your friend?”

“Yeah,” Taylor says. Obviously. He wouldn’t be sleeping with Ebs if he didn’t.

“And it means a lot to you to spend Christmas with him?”

“Yeah.” Didn’t he already tell her that? He feels like he already told her that.

“Well, then of course you can go, you should have said something in the first place,” his mom says, and Taylor very politely bites back his insistence that he totally already did.

The only downside to Taylor’s minor exaggeration is now his mom refers to Ebs as his boyfriend during her weekly calls, no matter how many times Taylor tells her they’re keeping it casual and not labeling things.

“You begged to go to his house for Christmas and you’re always together,” his mom says, which is a total exaggeration. “I think that’s dating, Taylor. And I do have a bit more experience with these things than you do.” And if his mom says so, well, she’s pretty smart, and now that Taylor thinks about it they do kind of ... date, he guesses. They switch off who takes the bill when they go out and don’t invite anyone else. Sometimes, if they can get away with it, Ebs will hold Taylor’s hand under the table and shoot him this cute little grin that makes Taylor’s stomach feel kind of fluttery.

They’re also having sex, a lot. And it’s really, really amazing sex. Jordan has started letting Taylor finger him during blowjobs, which is _awesome._ Taylor had no idea he was into that, but now he does, and he’s not giving that up just because he had to turn into some dumb, insecure teenager who needs to define their relationship. It doesn’t matter, anyway. Whatever he and Ebs have is fine just the way it is. So Taylor pushes his questions into the back of his mind and concentrates on getting excited for an Eberle family Christmas, which ends up living up to all of Ebs’ hype and then some. There are about a million people coming and going loudly at all times, there’s always a million delicious things to eat, and the Eberle family pajamas are so comfy that Taylor pretty much never wants to change out of them, ever.

He does, though, late on Christmas morning, because Ebs got a remote controlled plane that he’s super excited about and insists Taylor tests with him. Taylor thought it was kind of lame when Ebs had first opened it, but it turns out it’s pretty awesome, even if he does suck at the controller and lands it in the neighbor’s yard a few times. Watching Ebs try to figure out how to do loop-de-loops while his cheeks turn progressively pinker in the cold is ageless, apparently.

Eventually, though, even Ebs gets tired, or maybe he just gets cold, because he sits down next to Taylor on the porch and presses against him, shivering a little. Taylor automatically wraps an arm around him and briskly rubs some warmth into Jordan’s shoulder, and then realizes that somewhere along the way, shit like that became automatic. Once Ebs has thanked him and moved away a little, Taylor feels like he _should_ be holding Jordan’s hand. He can’t remember the last time they were alone and this close and weren’t holding hands. And suddenly all those stupid questions he’d told himself not to ask come rushing back at him too fast for Taylor to shut them down.

“Hey, Ebs,” he starts cautiously. “when you told your mom you were bringing me home, what’d you say?”

Jordan looks at him weird. “I said ‘Hey Mom, I’m bringing Taylor home for Christmas, is that okay?’ and she said ‘as long as he’s willing to sleep on the trundle bed in your room’.”

“No, I mean, like, did you, um,” Taylor kicks at the porch with his heel, swinging his leg back and forth. “Did you tell her I was your boyfriend?”

Jordan’s face is all pink, and it’s definitely not just from the cold. “No, I didn’t know if you wanted me to.”

“I mean, uh, I dunno,” Taylor shrugs awkwardly. He suddenly wishes he’d done more than just hooked up with a few girls at high school parties, or actually been serious about any of the girls he’d slept with, because some dating experience would be really useful right about now. He wishes he could call his mom and ask her to walk him through this. Ebs at least has the plane in his hands to fiddle with.

“I mean, you sort of already are, I just didn’t want to assume,” Jordan mumbles, looking up hopefully between his ridiculously long eyelashes, “but I was hoping you would. Want me to, that is.”

Taylor can feel himself grinning so widely he probably looks really dumb, like, concussed levels of dumb. “I dunno,” he says, kicking Ebs’ shin. “You’re kind of a shitty boyfriend. You never bring me flowers or tell me I’m pretty or anything.”

Jordan laughs and smacks him lightly. “Fuck you, you know you’re gorgeous.”

Taylor pulls his hand out of his pocket and catches Jordan’s, linking their fingers together and resting his head on Jordan’s warm shoulder. “You should tell your mom I’m your boyfriend,” he says quietly, and he can feel Jordan nod against the top of his head.

“Okay,” Jordan whispers back. Taylor leans up to kiss Jordan, but chastely, because his sisters are probably watching. He’s freezing cold and hunched over awkwardly, and he’s probably going to get frostbite on his everything. But he doesn’t want to get up or move an inch, doesn’t want to ruin the most perfect Christmas day he’s ever had.

\- - -

Taylor only vaguely notices that Ebs takes a different turn to go to their first practice back after New Year’s. He’s busy fiddling with the radio station, though, and sometimes Ebs tries a different route if he thinks it’s not going to make them late, so Taylor doesn’t worry about it. He’s sort of half-dozing in when he feels Ebs slowing down and the cold rush of air against his cheek that means Ebs has pulled down the window, but it’s definitely too soon for them to be at the rink.

“Dude, what the fuck,” he yelps, pulling his coat around him. Edmonton in January is freezing, and seriously, what the fuck does Ebs think he’s doing, opening the window without warning a guy. But Ebs isn’t paying attention to him, he’s leaning out his window and talking to the homeless guy who sells flowers at the intersection. Taylor (very manfully) waits until Ebs is done making polite small talk and signing something for the guy and the window is back up before he snaps. “Seriously Ebs, what the fuck, why do you need a shitty carnation for practice.”

“Shut up, Hallsy,” Ebs says, snapping the stem short and then tucking it behind Taylor’s ear.

“I’m not wearing this into the rink,” Taylor warns him, but Ebs just laughs.

“As long as you don’t complain about me not buying you flowers anymore.”

“What, seriously?” Taylor asks. “Wow. Fuck you so much.”

Jordan just smiles and leans over to kiss him. “You look pretty,” he says, his gloved hand catching on Taylor’s cheek because he hadn’t shaved that morning. And, well, Jordan’s smile is kind of sappier than usual and it’s probably really rude to refuse flowers from your boyfriend.

“Thanks,” he says instead, giving Jordan one more kiss, lingering a little because Jordan’s mouth is so warm and nice and the winter morning so isn’t.

“Hey,” Taylor says when they get in the warmth of Rexall, finally. “I feel like you don’t blow me enough anymore. Maybe the romance has gone out of our relationship.”

“Seriously?” Ebs asks, unwinding his scarf. “You’re going to try that?”

“It worked with the flowers,” Taylor points out. He kind of deserves it when Ebs shoves him into the wall. But he also gets blown when they get home from practice, so whatever. Win-win.

\- - -

The thing most people forget about Ebs is that he’s actually a twenty-one year old kid instead of the responsible adult he always pretends he is. Ebs fakes it pretty well, but Taylor knows shit. He’s stumbled across Jordan’s baby blanket folded and tucked away in his sock drawer, he’s heard how often Jordan calls his mom, and he gets treated to the miniature temper tantrums Jordan throws every time Taylor gets injured. Granted, Ebs’ temper tantrums aren’t obvious temper tantrums, not like Taylor’s where he stomps around and sometimes punches his pillow or yells. Ebs just shows how angry he is by pouting and hovering obnoxiously instead. And he ends up throwing a lot of temper tantrums, because Taylor keeps breaking himself. The tantrum over Taylor’s shoulder involves actual shouting. Ebs is furious Taylor’s out and doubly furious that Taylor’s known his shoulder was fucked up since Juniors and did jack shit to fix it, but it’s nothing Taylor doesn’t deserve.

It’s kind of cute, actually, and it’s sort of nice to be fussed over, especially since his mom isn’t there to do it. Taylor would appreciate it more if Jordan would have sex with him, but Ebs is convinced that anything more than kissing is going to injure Taylor more. Whatever, Taylor just jerks off with his other hand when Ebs isn’t there, and what Ebs doesn’t know won’t hurt him. What does apparently hurt Jordan is the idea that he’s going to have to leave Taylor home alone while he goes on the last road trip of the year, because he wakes Taylor up by crawling into bed next to him and grumping that he refuses to go to practice or get on any planes.

“It’s not like I don’t know what to do,” Taylor says, running his fingers against the grain of Jordan’s hair, dragging them across the top of his ear. He likes how it makes Jordan’s eyelashes flutter, his eyelids get even droopier. “I’ve stayed home alone injured before, okay.”

Jordan sighs against Taylor’s chest. “Doesn’t mean I like it when you do.”

Taylor presses a kiss against Jordan’s forehead. He doesn’t understand, really, why this feels so good. The only person he’s ever liked fussing over him is his mom, and he’s never liked cuddling. He knows it’s not, like, unmanly to like it. In Juniors some guys would be nap buddies or purposefully drape themselves all over each other, missing their girlfriends or just touch-hungry.

“Dude,” he remembers his buddy Kyle explaining to him when he’d asked, “cuddling is great. It’s like napping - you like napping, right?” Taylor had nodded, because who the fuck didn’t love napping. “It’s like napping, only you get to press up against a pair of tits, and sometimes you even get to make out a little. And the best part is, you do it and the chick thinks you’re totally sensitive and sweet. It gets you off the hook for all sorts of shit. Seriously, fuck people who think cuddling is gay, the really gay thing is not liking cuddling.”

He wonders what Kyle would say if he told him that the person he loves cuddling the most is a dude. Kyle would probably be cool with it, actually, since the dude is Ebs. Everyone’s cool with Ebs. Ebs is the best. “You’re the best,” he tells Jordan.

“Fucking right,” Jordan says, and then tilts his face up to blink at Taylor, confused. “Wait, why am I the best?”

Taylor shakes his head, feeling himself start to grin. “Just thinking.”

Jordan smiles back. He’s so goddamn cute when he smiles Taylor can hardly stand it. It makes his chest feel all warm and tight every time, and he’s not just saying that because Jordan’s head is really heavy resting there. He feels that way even when Jordan lifts his head to kiss him, all sleepy, sloppy lips, his stubble scratchy against Taylor’s palm. He should be cranky - his shoulder still aches and doesn’t get comfortable no matter how much he shifts it, the team’s going on a road trip in twelve hours and leaving him behind, and they lost their last two games. But Ebby’s there, and he just - he loves him.

Should that be a scary thought? He feels like it should be a scary thought. But it’s more like a familiar, comfortable one he’s had for a while. Of course he loves Jordan. Jordan is hilarious and sexy and the best friend he’s ever had.

“What’re you thinking about now?” Jordan asks.

Taylor leans forward and kisses Jordan as gently as he knows how. “I was thinking about doing that,” he says, because that’s easy, he’s always thinking about doing that. “And, uh,” he bites his lip. “I was thinking... I’m in love with you, dude.”

If he thought the way Jordan smiled at him before was great, it’s nothing on how he’s smiling now, like Taylor’s a hat trick and a Stanley Cup all wrapped up in one. “Really?”

“Really, really.”

“Me too,” Jordan says. “Really, really.” Taylor has to drag Jordan down by the t-shirt and kiss him a lot less nice then, even if he is too tired and achey to actually go anywhere with it. He loves Ebs and he’s at least getting to first base with him, dammit.

\- - -

Being in love with Ebs and being his boyfriend, Taylor has found, is pretty much the same as not being Ebs’ boyfriend. The biggest difference is that Taylor stops correcting his mom over wording and takes down “single” on his facebook profile. It’s mostly great. The only two shitty things are still having tell everyone he’s single, and having to spend the summer apart from Ebs. They still call and text every day and Skype once a week so Taylor doesn’t forget what Jordan’s dumb face looks like, and jerking off alone isn’t that bad, he just really misses what it’s like to have Jordan be there. It’s hard to sleep at night without Jordan’s whistling snore and he misses Jordan’s crappy cooking and loud, cackling laugh.

And it really, really sucks that Taylor can’t tell his friends why he’s moping around the house and doesn’t want to go out and hook up like he used to. He’s pretty sure Kyle, at least, has figured out he’s seeing someone, but he doesn’t want to have any awkward conversations, so he avoids the topic entirely. Everyone else just assumes he’s training a lot, getting his shoulder back in shape. Which he is, when he’s not on the phone with Ebs, counting down the days until September. Neither he nor Ebs ever mentions the lockout. It doesn’t matter, anyway. Come September, they’re moving to Edmonton with Whits, or they’re crashing with Tubes in OKC until they find a place, or they’re maybe going off to Europe, but no matter what, they’re doing it together. And as soon as he can, Taylor’s getting on a plane to wherever he has to go, seeing Ebs, and getting laid. In that order.

Ebs flies out to Edmonton the first of September to get things set up, but Taylor’s still got a doctor’s appointment in Kingston and an NHLPA meeting, which means it’s another two weeks until he gets to see their sweet new place.

“I upgraded us to a bigger TV, obviously,” Ebs says when Taylor calls to check in on how the moving’s going.

“Obviously,” Taylor agrees. This is why he loves Ebs, the guy thinks of everything.

“Also, um,” Ebs sounds kind of nervous. “Did you tell Whits?”

“About us?” Taylor asks. “Yeah. He was cool.” Whits’ exact words had been, “whatever, as long as you don’t have sex too loudly”, but Taylor’s not repeating that when his mom’s in the next room. He’d been pretty sure Whits would be fine with them together, which is why he’d convinced Jordan they should all move in together in the first place. That, and he and Ebs had both gotten bored only having each other to play against at Halo.

Ebs lets out a long, relieved breath. “Good,” he says. “Because I moved most of your stuff into my room.”

“You did?” Taylor’s chest feels tingly and warm, like he drank hot coffee too fast.

“If that’s okay?” Ebs babbles. “I mean, I can move it back, I just thought we’d use your room for like, if one of our moms or my brother or sisters comes down, or for storage, or whatever.”

Taylor thinks about what sleeping next to Jordan was like, about how great it is to wake up with a damp shoulder because it means Jordan has been drooling on it. He wishes Jordan was there drooling on his shoulder right now. “It’s perfect,” he says. His voice sounds kind of rough and emotional, but whatever. Jordan is his boyfriend. He can get emotional with him. “And don’t move everything, okay? Leave some for me when I come down.”

“You bet your ass I’m leaving shit for you to move,” Ebs laughs. “I’m not that fucking nice.”

“Whatever, Lady Byng.”

“Oh, fuck y-” Ebs cuts out for a second, swallowing the end of his sentence. “Ah, shit, that’s my mom calling. Skype tonight?”

“Course,” Taylor says. “Say hi to your mom.”

“God, you’re such a kiss-ass,” Ebs sighs dramatically, which means he’ll do it.

“Love you, Ebby.”

“Love you too,” Jordan says, before he hangs up.

Taylor’s mom smiles at him when he wanders into the kitchen. “I didn’t know you and Jordan were that serious,” she says when Taylor’s got his head in the refrigerator, and he straightens up so quickly he hits his head on the freezer door.

“Ow, _fuck_ ,” Taylor says, rubbing at the sore spot. If he got a concussion from his mom’s refrigerator, he’d never hear the end of it. “Way to eavesdrop, Mom.”

“Language,” his mom chides, making him bend over so she can fuss over him. “Don’t talk so loudly if you don’t want me to hear. And answer my question.”

Taylor brushes her hands off and straightens back up enough to shrug. “I mean, I guess. We’ve been going out for, like, a year.”

“You’re both very young,” his mom reminds him severely. “And this is a very big risk you’re taking.”

“I mean, I guess?” Taylor says, suddenly uncomfortable. He knows there are people out there who’d be pissed that he and Ebs are together, but he never really thinks about them. He can’t, because if he does, he starts thinking maybe he shouldn’t be with Jordan, and that idea hurts too much to even consider. Jordan makes him so happy he can hardly stand it. Taylor’s a better player and person around Jordan, and being a good player and person is what it’s his job to be. Plus, Ebs did that whole You Can Play thing, and Taylor’s pretty sure that’s not just bullshit, that’s a promise that if he and Jordan were outed and someone tried to start shit, Brian Burke would personally come down and fuck that person up. “It’s just, it’s _Jordan_ ,” he says helplessly, like that explains it all. It kind of does. “I mean, I can’t not, you know?”

His mom makes that face at him she does when he’s done something she thinks is adorable, even if she doesn’t want to admit it. Taylor presses his advantage as much as he can, smiling hopefully at her the way he did when he’d get gum in his hair or break a vase playing hockey inside. It must work as well as it did when he was six, because she sighs, defeated, and then smiles back a little.

“He’s a very nice young man,” she allows. “And at least with him I don’t have to worry he only likes you because you’re rich and famous.”

“There are plenty of other reasons someone could like me,” Taylor protests. He’s pretty sure he’s hot, for one thing. But his mom just looks indulgent, pats his arm, and tells him dinner is in twenty minutes.

Whatever, Taylor decides, grabbing a Sprite from the fridge. Ebs thinks he’s hot. That’s all that really matters, anyway.

\- - -

Everything is still up in the air when it’s time for Taylor to move to Edmonton and for training camp to start. No one knows if there’s even going to be a season to train for, but everyone seems to agree that whenever the decision comes down and whatever it is, it’s going to pay to be prepared. Frankly, Taylor doesn’t give a shit. He told his agent that he’s not playing anywhere without Ebs, no matter how good the offer, because he doesn’t really care where he plays, so long as Jordan’s playing with him.

Taylor had told Jordan not to pick him up at the airport, which turns out to be a really good decision. The second Jordan opens the door and beams at Taylor, all buffed up from summer training and tan and finally _right there_ , Taylor’s gone. He drops his bags, grabs Jordan’s face, buries his fingers in Jordan’s hair, and kisses Jordan as hard as he can. He can feel Jordan laughing even as he tugs Taylor in the apartment and kisses him back. “God, I missed you so fucking much,” Taylor mutters when he pulls away for breath. “This summer sucked. We’re never doing that shit ever again.”

“Never ever,” Jordan agrees, his arms tightening around Taylor’s waist. Taylor’s about to lean in and kiss Ebs again when he hears what is unmistakably Whits making a grossed-out noise.

“Hey, Whits,” he says, awkwardly extracting one hand to wave. Whits just scowls and takes another bite from his bowl of cereal. “Have a good summer?” He can feel Jordan leaning against his chest and giggling helplessly, which is making keeping a straight face really hard.

Whits just grunts. “I was serious about my quiet sex rule,” he says. “I don’t want to know, hear, or see anything.”

“You totally won’t,” Taylor only kind of lies. They’re only loud when they’re drunk. Whits doesn’t look like he believes him, anyway.

“I’m going to go to my room and pray for a lockout,” Whits says, stomping away.

Jordan waits until he’s gone before he tilts his head back up to look at Taylor. “I think we should have some really loud sex right now,” he suggests, “just to fuck with him.” He’s beaming brightly enough that Taylor feels himself smiling like a total sap, brushing Jordan’s hair back from where it’s fallen in his face. He’s not sure what’s more amazing, Jordan’s suggestion or how stupidly hot he is.

“I love you so fucking much,” Taylor says reverently, and lets Jordan drag him back to their room.

For all his grumbling, though, Whits doesn’t actually seem to mind them together too much. They all quickly settle into a mutual agreement that for every time Taylor and Ebs are too loud or couple-y, Whits gets to drop a tidbit to the team about how married they act. He catches Taylor and Jordan making out on the couch, and suddenly everyone knows that Ebs does all of Taylor’s laundry, but Taylor does all the dishes, and they always shop for groceries together. Whits finds out that Taylor’s favorite thing to do is hang out in the kitchen with Ebs and watch him cook dinner, and suddenly everyone knows that, too. Taylor just thinks it’s lucky that Whits left out the part where Ebs always holds out a spoon and makes him taste everything. They do a lot of gay shit, but that’s gay even for them, and he’d never hear the end of it. Whatever, there are worse things than being called “Mrs. Eberle” all the time.

Kreuger takes them both aside after one practice where Gags kept sneaking behind them and whistling “Here Comes the Bride”, looking so solemn that Taylor wonders if one of them’s going to get traded or sent down to OKC. “You know,” he says, “if the boys are bothering you, I can tell them to lay off with all the married comments.”

Ebs glances at Taylor sideways, then shrugs. “I don’t mind,” he says. “What about you, Hallsy?”

“It’s cool,” Taylor says, and then, deciding he might as well go for broke, “I mean, it’s not like it isn’t kind of true, right?”

Ebs makes a choking noise and turns bright pink, but he’s trying to hide a smile behind his glove, so he can’t be too upset. Taylor can’t really tell if Kreuger’s pissed or not, he more seems confused, like he’s not sure if they’re pranking him or not. “Jordan?” Kreuger says finally.

“Um, yeah,” Ebs says, looking over at Taylor, and Taylor can feel himself beaming back. “We’re... yeah.”

“Well then,” Kreuger says. “Can I trust you to tell the team, or should I?”

“We can talk to Horcs tonight,” Taylor assures him. “And, uh, we’ll figure it out.”

“Good,” says Kreuger. He suddenly seems awkward. “Well, uh, keep... keep doing what you’re doing, boys.” He nods at them once before turning around and heading back down the tunnel.

The second Coach leaves Ebs bursts into hysterical laughter. “ _That’s_ how you choose to come out?” He asks, and Taylor shrugs.

“What? I wasn’t going to lie.”

Ebs shakes his head. “I’m not saying you have to lie, but that’s pretty fucking honest.”

“Whatever.” Taylor knocks his stick against Ebs’ shins. “I don’t see why not. We’re... we’re the real deal, aren’t we?”

Something in Jordan’s face goes soft. “Yeah, Hallsy,” he says. “We’re the real thing.”

“I always knew we would be,” Taylor says, because he _did_ , he’s always known Ebs would be something special.

It’s a stupid, sappy thing to say, but Ebs just smiles and goes, “Yeah, I bet you did,” like he has total faith in Taylor, or like maybe he always knew they’d end up here, too.


End file.
